Patrick Jane's Weekend
by BFangz
Summary: Everyone deserves a weekend off, even a psychic who isn't psychic. Of course, if he were psychic, he'd have seen it coming!
1. Friday Evening

**A/N:** The character, Eliza, is mentioned in two other stories. While it's not necessary to read them to follow this story, they do offer some background.  
– Night on the Town  
– A Different Sort of Case

**Friday Evening**

It had been a long week. Lisbon had been all over him all week, it seemed. Ok, CBI had received a notice that they were being sued, and there was an official complaint, and both named Patrick Jane, but the cases had been solved! He never would understand why some people sweat the small stuff. He sighed. _Guess they are all over Lisbon and "stuff" does flow downhill. _

The late afternoon weather was pleasant, and he was happy to be facing a relaxing weekend.

He almost enjoyed the three flight walk up to his apartment. There was an elevator, but while he was not claustrophobic, he'd rather not be closed in a tin box that could open or could fail to open at its mechanical whim. Besides, the walk was healthy and provided some modicum of wind-down time from traffic. Walking the length of the hallway was a chance to focus in on his surroundings, easing him into a new reality.

He had a corner apartment giving him a nice view and the third floor was not too high and not too low for his tastes. It was barely above efficiency, but he no longer needed a lot of room. Many of the things he thought necessary to life, suddenly, were no longer necessary and were even painful reminders of times that had passed and mistakes that had been made. Every since that time, approaching his door was an uncomfortable experience. Never had it returned to the unthinking experience that it was for normal people.

Putting the key into the lock on his door, he hesitated. The "tell" was in place, but something wasn't right. He let go of the key and stepped back. He briefly considered calling Lisbon, but he could find nothing really out of place. Every instinct was telling him that something was wrong, but he had no clue as to why. Not for the first time, he wished he was licensed to carry a firearm. He shook his head. _Lisbon would never let me!_ He carefully turned the key, hesitated and cautiously stepped into the dimness of his apartment.

To anyone else, it would have been almost invisible, but in his hypersensitive state, it was like a beacon. The white plum blossom on the telephone stand, near the door, was like a blinking neon sign. His first emotion was alarm, followed by curiosity, then realization. He felt a sensation of relief and a brief flash of anger, then anticipation. "Eliza?" He paused. "Are you here and did you bring Palinca?"

A soft feminine giggle met his query. "You _are _good! And yes, I did bring a bottle of the really good stuff." She stepped out of his bed room, where she'd been concealing herself, looking even tinier and sexier than he remembered. "When did you realize I was here?"

"Something spooked me when I put the key in the door. I still don't know what, but it was really weird."

Eliza giggled again. "You must be psychic!"

"There's no such....." Jane started. Then he laughed. "Ok, you got me! I'm really glad you left your calling card. I was really not very happy."

"And yet you came in, didn't you? I'm not sure that shows good judgment, are you?"

Jane grinned again. "You do keep trying to get into my head, don't you? That's my gig."

"Yes but getting into your head is so much fun," Eliza retorted. "First your head, then your pants...."

"Now you're getting personal!

She closed the distance between them and put her arms around his waist and gazed up into his eyes. "Oh, I can get so very personal."

Her mischievous grin was a definite clue that she was up to something he wasn't prepared for. Gazing into her eyes, this close, he realized he'd never seen eyes of such a color. Briefly, he felt like he could fall into them and maybe even lose himself and forget. Briefly. "I never did get to thank you for saving our lives, did I?" He said, breaking that mood.

Eliza stepped back and shrugged. "I figured that was a given, considering. Besides, since I'm here, now, you can consider ways that you could repay me." She smiled. "I could suggest food....."

Jane nodded. "Food sounds good. What do you say to the idea of having a shot of that fine Palinca you brought ,and then I'll introduce you to fine dining in Sacramento?"

Walking to the restaurant, Jane felt the warm glow of the Palinca and the warm glow of having Eliza next to him. She was tiny, 5'4" or less and no more than 112 pounds. Her hair was almost jet black and long, her complexion very pale, her dress was white silk blouse, leather skirt, and she used a cape as a wrap. Her almost knee high leather boots finished her ensemble. "I see you're still sporting the Goth look," Jane said.

"Yes," she replied, "But its more than a look. As you can see, I have very little pigment in my skin so I avoid sunlight as much as possible. I guess you can say that I'm a creature of the night, but in a very real sense. Sunlight does horrible things to me. The cape is an effective wind break and is easy to carry when I don't need it, and I like it. It's also loose fitting and allows concealment of that which need concealing."

Jane glanced skyward. "I am a low officer, you remember!"

Eliza squeezed him arm. "No you're not. You're a consultant. Besides, I'd never do anything to make you compromise your values." She hesitated. "At least not when you are with me."

"OK," Jane said. "New subject. How did you get into my apartment?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I really would."

"If I told you, that would take all of the fun out of it."

Jane stopped and stared at her. "You ARE going to tell me, you know."

Eliza grinned, looking like an evil pixie. "Are you telling me you're not smart enough to figure it out?"

Jane grunted. "There's the restaurant," he said, indicating a Chinese restaurant towards the middle of the block. "That Palinca really started my appetite."

Eliza grinned as she followed him, rushing to keep up.

oOOOo


	2. Friday Night

**Friday Night**

The meal was pleasant and the sake flowed freely. Sake is not very strong, not much stronger than a port wine, but smooth and warm, it can sneak up and deliver an authoritative punch. Jane knew this, but the presence of diminutive Eliza made him feel like maybe he should prove something, though he wasn't sure what, but for some reason, the sake did seem to be having it's way with him. "I don't think I should have any more Sake, Eliza. I really do want to remember tonight." He smiled. "You too. You matched me one for one, and I weigh a lot more than you."

Eliza laughed, a tinkle of wind chimes in his mind. "That you do, Patrick. That you do. I think I've lost some weight since you last saw me, too."

Patrick made a sound indicating she should continue and the look of concern on his face was very real.

"A friend of mine was having some trouble and when I wasn't helping him, I was worrying about him. Stress and not eating regularly do take a toll."

Patrick nodded and covered her hands with his. "I know. Caring for others can hurt more than anything else."

Eliza tossed her last Sake. "What do you say we hit some cool air? Maybe moving will help me shake this depressive mood I keep getting into." She rose, a trifle unsteady, but firmly in control.

She held out her hand to Patrick, helping him rise. The impact of the Sake surprised him, but even more so, the ease with which Eliza supported his weight with one hand and pulled him erect and stabilized him. He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn't surprised when Eliza grinned, almost reading his mind. "I do handle 500 pounds of chopped hog, you know." She grinned.

The evening was pleasant, cool, slightly crisp, with an almost full moon peeking above the horizon. Jane was actually enjoying the company of a very pretty lady on his arm, bantering with with in intelligence, with him. His encounters with Eliza were characterized by a total lack of pressure. They'd met on the internet when he was at a Denver conference, and again when he was on a case, which she contributed to the success, sort of. Being with her was, no other word for it, fun!

They were so wrapped up in their conversation, that neither of them realized what was happening. Jane's first indication of trouble was feeling a blow, centered between his shoulder blades and finding himself falling face forward. Jane, while he did dress sharply and seemed to eschew violence, had been raised carney, and carney is more than just living by the wits. It is also being able to take and keep what is needed for survival. In Carney life, the weak do not survive.

He forcibly rolled to his right, landing on his right shoulder blade, continuing to roll out of the expected kick's path. He saw that Eliza had been grabbed from behind and was just executing a throw worthy of any Judoka. He caught the heel of the kicking foot of his attacker and pushed hard, upward, causing him to fall backwards.

As he stood, he saw the third attacker aim a pistol towards Eliza; but before he could react, Eliza had drawn a long knife and severed the tendons in the gunman's wrist, causing him to drop the weapon. Taking care of business, Jane dropped to his knees, landing on his attackers chest. The crunch sound indicated broken ribs or even a cracked sternum on his attacker. Rolling clear, he saw Eliza deliver a kick to the head of the gunman. Both of them converged on the attacker that Eliza had flipped, who was just coming to his senses.

He crawled away on all fours, presenting such a comical aspect that they ended up laughing so hard neither wanted to actually chase him. Jane turned to Eliza, watching in amazement as the knife she'd used on the gunman vanished beneath her cape. "One of those things you like to conceal?" he quipped.

"Well, a girl does need an _edge_ every now and then," she countered.

Jane groaned at the blatant, but very fitting pun.

A brisk wind started and Jane shivered, while Eliza wrapped her cape around herself more snugly. By mutual agreement, they put distance between the two unconscious men on the ground and themselves. "I really don't feel like spending my night doing paperwork," Jane had commented.

"Nor do I want to have to explain myself to the local law officials," Eliza had agreed.

* * * * * * *

Palinca, Leonard Cohen, a pretty woman, and a deck of cards. What more does a bed need? Patrick smile his most innocent smile. "Five card draw, OK?"

Eliza nodded. "And to make it more interesting and quicker, deuces and one eyed jacks wild, good 'nuf?"

Patrick's grin may not have been as innocent, but it still could pass. "We'll play for pennies, each penny representing one article of clothing to be removed by the loser."

Eliza remained the picture of innocence and chastity, except that she'd removed her cape and her silk blouse was an incredibly titillating translucent plum color, not exactly revealing, but definitely accentuating her 'charms.' She giggled. "Bet you wear bikini underwear!" Her grin was wicked.

"HA! Like you'll find out in this game." He dealt the first five cards and studied his hand and then focused on Eliza. "Dealer takes two," he said, tossing in the penny ante.

"Three," Eliza said, tossing in her penny.

She looked pleased with the exchange, but Patrick notice a subtle shift in her position. "See," she said.

"Raise a penny," Jane

Eliza grimaced, "Fold," and tossed her cape on the floor. "Hey, you weren't wearing that," Patrick complained.

"But I had been and I could have put it back on. Pretty please," she pouted.

Patrick smirked. "OK, this time."

* * * * * * *

Patrick kicked off his pants, his color heightening. "OK, we both have bikini briefs on. But I gotta say, I think yours look better on you." He'd discovered, much to his surprise, that when it counted, he'd actually read Eliza wrong.

"Oh, I don't know," she said leaning forward to stroke him on a rather obvious bulge. "Do we really need the cards, now?"

Silently, Patrick cleared the cards from the bed and turned the light out. He found himself irresistibly pushed back, soft breasts on his chest, exciting nibbles on his neck and questing hands removing his briefs.

He briefly wondered why she was here, but quickly ceased to care.

oOOOo


	3. Saturday Morning

**Saturday Morning**

Jane groaned, the sexual tension that the dream was causing him, almost unbearable. His eyes snapped open at the final moment, and realized that his dream was an Eliza induced reality. Her strength and stamina were amazing, not that he was in a calculating mood, at the moment.

She lay across him, half on, half off, still joined, panting, her breathing patterns almost mirroring his. She rolled onto her back and spread her arms. "Is it hot in her or is it just me," she gasped.

Patrick groaned. "Oh is it definitely you." They lay, panting for a few moments. "Do you start every morning with the men you find in bed with you like that?"

Eliza giggled.

"That's not really an answer, you know." He paused. "Why here, why now, and most of all, why me?"

Eliza yawned and stretched, arching her back in a manner that made Jane wish he was younger or had quicker recovery times. She turned towards him and propped herself up on an elbow. "Here, because it's far from there. Why now, because now is when the shit is breaking. Last but not least, why you," she grinned. "Because I trust you and I like you. You're a good guy."

Patrick stared at her, taking in as much information as his senses would allow. Every one of her answers had implied far more than it had said, and they'd said almost nothing. "Eliza, almost anyone can say nothing with a lot, but you are a master of saying less than nothing with a little! That is a real talent, are you in trouble?"

"Me? Well, some would think so, but I'm not worried. It's my friend I'm worried about." She stared into his eyes. "Oh, OK.... I had a run in with the Deacon and I hurt him and his business real bad. Duk helped, but it was mostly me. Sad to say, the Deacon survived and he's been hunting me every since. Duk, the big stupid lug that he is, took some real risks trying to 'save' me and nearly got himself killed. I'm hoping that with me out of the picture, things will settle back down. Duk and the Deacon are fairly well matched, and fighting is bad for business for both of them. Common sense may prevail."

Jane nodded, implying understanding, but he realized that there was more. While he didn't doubt anything she'd said, he suspected there were things that she'd not said and he wondered how they played into her unexpected visit. He took a deep breath. "I do have friends and contacts on both sides of the fence. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

She smiled. "You are helping. You are keeping me from crawling inside of my own head and not coming out. I nearly did that, once, and it took years for me to reestablish my life. I should probably apologize for just showing up so unannounced, but I really wasn't sure what else to do."

Whatever was eating on Eliza was deeper than she was admitting, even to herself, Jane realized. For the first time, he realized that she was just as vulnerable as she looked, even though she could handle a 500 pound chopper and take out a man with a gun without breaking a sweat. He gathered her tiny frame to him and held her tightly.

Sleep claimed them both.

oOOOo


	4. Saturday Evening

**Saturday Evening**

"I'm starving," Eliza complained stepping into her boots.

Jane stopped and stared at her. "Do you always put your boots on first? Do you know what you are doing to me, standing there naked, except for black leather boots?"

Eliza gave him a bump and grind, and then wrapped her leather skirt around her waist and cinched the waist tie tight. She shrugged her blouse on, secretly enjoying Patrick's rapt attention. "You do have places to eat around her, don't you? I mean eat! Not nibble."

Their seat at the Moxie was great and Jane's Citroen made short work of the distance from his apartment to downtown. Eliza had loved Jane's beloved antique, though it's age would belie its performance. While not a high speed vehicle, a top speed of slightly over 100 mph was optimistic, it is a true sports car, with a tight suspension, and when cornering, seems glued to the road. With a wheelbase several inches shorter than a full size luxury car, it was a good choice for Jane's lifestyle, plus true aficionados considered it one of the more beautiful production cars ever made. Style was not it's short point.

Patrick fussed over the menu and then abandoned it in favor of the salmon dish that was being featured, today. Eliza had refused a menu and had silenced the waiter with a wave of her hand, and ordered Steak Tartare. The waiter accepted the order and offered with or without anchovies. "With," was her instant reply. Eliza smiled and looked at Patrick. "Now don't go and ruin my, to date, good impression of you!"

"Not a problem," he smiled. "I just don't like beef or horse. I'm not a fan of red meat. Now, I do love shashimi!"

"OK, you pass on that one. There's no accounting for taste!" She winked at him and the both laughed.

The food was plentiful and the wine was good, though the restaurant did not have Palinca. The glow of the wine was good for both of them.

The evening, like last evening, had turned brisk. Jane wondered, as they were walking to the car, what disaster would befall them, tonight. As if he were truly psychic, the heavy rumble of multiple motorcycles turned into the parking area behind them. Jane instantly recognized the gang as wearing the Bloods colors. He tried to push Eliza behind him, but she just slipped from his grasp like smoke.

He recognized Monk and Brute, so there was a good chance he could negotiate his way out of this – whatever "this" was.

The bikes circled them and came to a halt. Monk killed his engine and looking towards Eliza said, "Eliza?"

Eliza stepped forward, smiled, and said, "In the flesh."

Monk leered. "And good looking flesh it be, too." He shook his head and handed her a cell phone. "Text message for you," he explained.

Eliza showed no surprise, just took the phone and read. She handed theh phone back to him. "Thank you," she said. She reached into her cape and passed something to Monk. "Duk's compliments," she whispered so low that only he could hear. Monk palmed it quickly and made it vanish. If you didn't know what was happening or weren't as alert as Jane, you'd have missed it entirely.

The bikes roared off, leaving the smell of hot oil and gasoline in the air. Eliza watched the tail lights vanish into the distance, an almost wistful look on her face. She shook herself, turned to Patrick and said, "That was a text message from Duk. The Deacon has sent a crew to find me. He's stupid. Only two, so they probably won't have a whole lot of luck."

Jane looked confused. "Why didn't he text you himself? Why text the Bloods and how did they know where to find you?"

Eliza walked over to his Citroen. "All good questions. Let's head back to your apartment and I'll give you some guesses. Right now, if you'll drive, I need some thinking time."

Back at the apartment, Jane opened the door and allowed Eliza to enter first. "Now, Miss Eliza, you are going to talk to me and tell all."

Eliza snorted. "All, not likely." She dropped her cape, took off her blouse and removed her skirt. She remove each boot, by standing on one leg and easing the boot off.

"That's impossible," Jane said. "And why are you getting naked."

"Being naked will let you perform the task I'm going to give you and won't stop me from talking." She flopped down on the bed. "I'm guessing that my favorite Bastard, Duk, he was a black ops spook, you know, chipped me. That's how he knew where I was. He has connections with the Bloods, and since I ditched my old phone, he called them to deliver me the message. Now, you are going to go over every inch of my body and find that damn chip and we are going to remove it."

Patrick shook his head. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"I'm lying here naked, not molesting you, and you tell me I'm kidding. I'm going to hurt that sucker the next time we meet, and you find that damn chip or you may be on the top of my list of people to hurt."

Jane wasn't sure if she was telling him the truth or not, but if she was, he wanted that chip gone almost as much as she. That chip, if it existed, was in his apartment. "OK, what do I look for and where?"

"The chip can't be too small, but it has to be small enough to conceal. I'm guessing something like an RFID chip."

"You mean those little things on boxes," he asked.

"Yes, something like that. I've taken several showers, so if it's on the surface, it where I can't reach it and it has to be fixed there really well. I'd bet subcutaneous."

"OK, hold still," he said. "This is sort of fun," he observed.

Eliza squealed. "If it were there, you'd know it by now. Get serious."

"Sorry," he said, but he didn't sound sorry at all. If fact he looked rather smug.

"Ha! I think I found it!"

Eliza turned to face him. "That rotten bastard put it in my butt?"

Patrick chuckled. "Right in the crease line, but it feels like cyst or something solid. I'm guessing you don't have a cyst there, and there's a tiny scar there, too."

"Ok. That has to go. You ready for surgery Doctor Jane?"

oOOOo


	5. Saturday Night

**Saturday Night**

The process of removing the chip was not a pleasant experience. Patrick seemed more affected by it than Eliza, who's buttocks were being perforated. Patrick finally held up a bloody chip in the tweezers to the light, so that both of them could see it. "He really did chip you," Jane noted.

Eliza nodded, holding a gauze pad over the wound in her derriere. "Put it on the floor and grind it to powder. I doubt that there's a signal for it to ride, in here, but you never know. I can only guess at the technology it uses. This spook stuff is not my field."

Turning the electronic component to dust what the matter of seconds. Eliza nodded in satisfaction as Patrick brushed the dust on an envelope and tossed it in the trash.

"Just what is your field, Eliza? You have the combat skills of an Army Ranger and one of the leaders of a Bloods chapter rides up, calls you by name and you give him something." Patrick nodded. "Yes, I saw that little exchange, and this seems the first moment I've had to ask you about it."

Eliza frowned. "I've never lied to you, Patrick. I really am a librarian. My hobby is motorcycles, which allowed me to meet Duk and his crew. I have studied martial arts, various forms, and as I told you, I'm a lot older than I look. I've had a lot of practice. I did pass something to Monk. It was something from Duk. They have some sort of deal going. That's none of my business. I did a friend a favor."

"Does it bother you that it's probably illegal?"

"Not in the slightest. Why do you work with the CBI?"

"You know why, Eliza. To find Red John."

"And what you intend to do to him, when you find him, is legal?" Eliza smiled.

"Uh, not exactly legal, but just."

"So, you are not concerned about legality. Sounds like me."

"It's not like you. I have reasons," Patrick responded.

"Maybe I have reasons, too. That's something that we really can't know about another, isn't it?"

Patrick hesitated. "What you're proposing sounds like anarchy, to me."

"What you are doing sounds like anarchy to me," Eliza replied. "Dare I say that you are using the justice system to further your own illegal ends?"

Patrick laughed. "Eliza, you'd dare say almost anything, I'd guess. I really don't agree with you, but I understand your point. Still, you can't run a society that way."

"So you are an exception to the rule." Eliza smiled. "Maybe I am too."

"So, you're justifying what you do by what I do?" Patrick asked.

"No," Eliza replied. "I'm not justifying what I do. I simply do it. Anyone can justify almost anything at anytime. The proof of any act lies in success, failure, effect, and legacy. Time will tell. Till then, there is good Palinca. And yes, that is a hint."

They lie next to each other, on the bed, sipping Palinca, wrapped in their own thoughts.

"Eliza?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me find Red John?"

"Actually, I've tried, Patrick. The guy is like smoke. When we first met, I thought this was something good I could do. The problem is that I haven't been able to do it. I asked Duk to request information from all of the Sacramento bikers and nothing. What he does seems to not be for profit. I think he's a vampire."

"Now, you know there's no such thing, Eliza. This is the real world."

"No, you don't understand what I mean. I mean he's a psychic vampire. He feeds off of the misery of others. He derives pleasure from the suffering of others and causing pain is reason for existence. I don't mean that he's an undead blood sucker. For all I know, blood may disgust him."

Jane grunted. "I doubt that." A pause. "Given all of that, how does that help me catch him?"

Eliza sat up and stared at Jane. "I think you know." She hesitated. "You need to be where he is to catch him. To be where he is, you have to know where he will be. To know where he will be, you have to arrange for him to be there and then you can wait for him to show."

"And how do I do that?"

Eliza stared at him. "How did you do it last time?"

Patrick's face blanched and he closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. "I didn't realize...."

Eliza interrupted, preventing him from finishing the sentence. "But you know now. You can use that to your advantage."

oOOOo


	6. Sunday

**A/N: With a fond nod to: "Suicide is Painless" by Johnny Mandel**

**Sunday**

Patrick groaned and rolled over. His head felt like ghouls were dancing behind his eyeballs. The odor of eggs and bacon wafted his way and he wondered if he was going to be sick or hungry, then the incongruity of smelling bacon and eggs in his apartment on a Sunday morning struck him. He managed to get one eye open and almost sat up. A strong hand took his and pulled him to a sitting position. "Wake up, Soldier! I decided to feed you rather than molest you."

"Huh?" Patrick squinted and wondered how Eliza could actually be standing erect and smiling at this ungodly hour, whatever it was. The apartment was dim, thunder and the sound of rain being wind driven into the window announced that the day was less than California sunshine.

"We have English muffins, eggs, and fixings. What more could you ask for on a monsoon morning?"

"If you feel half as good as you look and are acting, you simply are not human. No one can drink that much of that stuff and remain unscathed!"

Eliza giggled. "I am unscathed, as you say, and I feel great. Now, when did I ever claim to be human?" She gave him a painful jab in the ribs with one finger.

"Ow! That hurt. Now give me one of those sandwiches."

* * * * * * *

Patrick, munching on the egg sandwich, stared out of the window, thinking how well the day matched his mood. Red John kept echoing in his mind along with flashes of happy times with his wife and daughter, both turned to ashes in one quick evening, his life forever altered. He felt like screaming that it wasn't their fault, to leave them alone. Leave them alone. "Why me?" The answer was: "Because you were stupid. Arrogant. AND stupid. But mostly stupid. You killed your family, not Red John. Red Jane!"

The hand on his shoulder jolted him to reality. Eliza said nothing. She just squeezed his shoulder and half smiled, trying to offer encouragement. His return smile was weak, but it was nice to not be alone, today. He put his hand over her's and squeezed. His grin was crooked but it was a grin. "You show up at the weirdest times," he said.

A wry grimace briefly appeared on her face. "That seems to be one of my talents. Weird seems to attract me."

"Well, thank you. I've been building up to a major depressive episode for a couple of weeks, now. They're getting worse, not better." He took a deep breath and stared out of the window.

"Have you considered getting professional help?"

"I am a professional. I know all the tricks."

Eliza chewed her lower lip. "You like being difficult, don't you?"

Patrick shrugged. "Like it or not, that's the truth."

"Hypnosis?" she asked.

"Me? You have got to be kidding. The last fool who tried that ended up clucking like a chicken at random intervals for the next three days."

Eliza snorted. "That was NOT nice."

"No, but it was funny."

"But it didn't help you."

"Yes it did. It made me laugh."

Eliza pouted. As pouts go, it was a cute pout, but Patrick was not noticing or commenting. He stood up, walked to the window, leaned on the sill and stared out. "Sometimes," he said, "I wonder what it would be like. The wind rushing in your ears, the ground rushing towards you, knowing that, in a few seconds, it'll all be over. No more hurt. No more pain or regrets. Just peace." He turned towards her. "Sounds nice, doesn't it?"

She sighed. "Yes, it really does, but you gotta wonder...."

"What do I have to wonder?"

"You have to wonder why. Why, if it's that easy, doesn't everyone do it and the sooner the better." Eliza joined Patrick by the window and looked out with him. Everything was a haze, waterlogged and grim. "Your view sucks, today."

"Like life," he asked.

"Hmpf. No. The weather improves."

Patrick turned and stared at her. "Is that supposed to cheer me up?" He was going to say more, but her body language was screaming at him and he did finally remember what she'd said about her reasons for being here. While she'd never really been specific, it had been clear that she'd been escaping a bad situation. One she did not want to face.

"Just speculating, Patrick. Just speculating. No matter how long we live, it's the rest of our lives and that is a really long time or a really short time, depending, but it's always not enough or too much. So, there is three quarters of a bottle of Palinca there. What say we do some damage to it?"

He glanced at the clock on the wall. One of those auto adjusting clocks that set themselves to the bureau of standards each day. "One PM already. Time sure flies when you're having fun."

Eliza poured two shots and handed him one. "Let's give old man time some wings, then. Bottoms up!" She toasted and sang, slightly off key, in a high clear voice:"  
"'Cause suicide is painless  
it brings on many changes  
and I can take or leave it if I please.  
...and you can do the same thing if you choose. "

* * * * * * *

Eliza jerked awake. Three AM, the clock said. Patrick looked dead to the world, and the Palinca bottle was empty. She got dressed and stared down at the sleeping Jane. She wondered if she should. It wasn't a cure, but it could act like a band-aid or crutch. Sometimes we need a little help to get us through some particularly rough times. "No man is an island," she mused.

She sat next to him and easily forced him into a sitting position. She smacked him hard and hissed, "Focus. Focus.... Listen to me and focus!"

His eyes snapped open and he gazed into her eyes, not six inches from his. Once again, he was frozen by their limitless depths and swirling colors. He felt engulfed and frozen in time and space. He existed is a stasis, only able to hear her voice, but not knowing or caring what she said, unable to move or think.

Time passed. Patrick Jane sat motionless on his bed in an empty room. There was no sign that anyone else had been there, recently.

The alarm clock sounded, and he realized that it was Monday morning. Time to go to work. He busied himself with normal morning chores.

oOOOo


	7. Monday

**Monday**

** "**It's a fantastic day," Lisbon chirped. "After yesterday, can you believe the difference. I hope all of you had a great weekend."

Wayne and Grace exchanged glances and surreptitious smiles with each other. Jane grinned at that interchange. "They might as well post it on a bill board," he thought.

Lisbon looked at the smiling Jane. "You look chipper this morning. You must have had a pleasant weekend."

Arising from the reclining position Jane replied, "I do feel rested and cheerful, today. Must be all this sunshine and warm breezes."

"Can't complain about that," Grace added. "What did you do this weekend? Anything special?"

Jane said, "I.... uh... I.... I just relaxed and listened to music. Never even left the apartment." He looked slightly confused and disoriented.

"Well, whatever you did, do some more of it. You look and sound great, this morning.

oOOOo


End file.
